


Skyfall

by mightymaple



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightymaple/pseuds/mightymaple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Alfred are spies for an international agency, keeping the world safe and everything running smoothly within the countries. But recently, an unknown agent has started a conspiracy that is gaining a significant force in the agency. The conspirator's main plan? Global domination, starting by killing the lower ranking agents.<br/>Inspired by the song Skyfall by Adele, and Bond. James Bond. This is also my story on FF.net and Quotev. Beta-ed by rosesandspades713.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Dammit Alfred, I told you to be more careful,” Arthur hissed as his American companion fumbled with the doorknob, giving away their location. “They'll definitely find us now,” he continued, pulling Alfred further back into the large closet.  
“If you'd shut up for five seconds we wouldn't be in this situation anyways,” Alfred muttered, looking around for a possible way to escape. This was difficult, considering the only illumination in the closet came from the crack in the door. “Why did you choose a closet to hide in, anyway? It's so easy to get trapped in these things,” Alfred grabbed the edge of a shelf, nearly tripping over the uneven floor, and a small opening appeared in the ceiling.  
“Well isn't that convenient,” Arthur whispered. “Give me a leg up.”  
Alfred was already on it, pushing the British man up and out of the closet and onto the roof of the old, abandoned building. Arthur reached down to pull Alfred up, just managing to lift him high enough to grab the edge of the opening, leaving Alfred to heave the rest of his body up and out. They ran and jumped off the roof, landing solidly on the ground and making a break for shelter in the Russian forest.  
A shot from behind Alfred and Arthur made them flinch; turning around to see at least three people chasing after them with some sort of small gun that seemed unlikely to be able to hit either of them at this range. Still, they both got their handguns out and ducked into the trees, trying to lose them. They had been ordered not to kill anyone, no matter the circumstances. Possibly one of their greatest challenges yet. Get in, get out, no killing.  
Alfred sighed, his finger twitching as it touched the trigger. Arthur looked over at him.  
“I know what you're thinking, and you can't,” he panted, running hard to keep up with Alfred's long legs. “They said we can't kill anyone on this mission.”  
“I know,” Alfred said sadly, jumping over a log and landing silently, “but they're chasing after us with guns and it would be nice if we could just kill them and be done with it.”  
Arthur rolled his eyes, looking back at their nosy pursuers. “Is that your solution to everything? Just killing your problems?”  
“Well, yeah, actually,” Alfred laughed as they lost the three people chasing them in the tangle of trees.  
“Until we know we've lost them, I'm climbing this tree,” Arthur announced, proceeding to scale said tree and leaving Alfred to stare up at him from the ground.  
“Why?” Alfred called up to Arthur, climbing up after him with a curious look on his face.  
“So if they follow us, they won't even know we're here,” Arthur explained, finding a good branch to sit on. Alfred sat on the opposite branch, admiring the view.  
“What happens if they see us?” Alfred asked, his legs dangling in the cold air.  
“Then we might be fucked, but who knows, maybe they can't climb trees,” Arthur said quietly, glaring at Alfred's swinging legs. “Stop that, movement could give us away.”  
Alfred stuck his tongue out at Arthur and stopped. “What kind of international spy can't climb a tree?” Alfred retaliated, smirking slightly.  
“An overweight one,” Arthur shot back, referencing Alfred's less-than-healthy eating habits. Alfred looked hurt, but quickly got over it, opting for a swift kick to Arthur's shin instead.  
“Hey, we're supposed to be allies, here,” Arthur protested, raising his arms in surrender and nearly falling off his branch. Alfred caught his arm.  
“You're right, fighting could end up with both of us falling out of this tree. We'd be so dead,” Alfred said, looking down at the ground far, far below them.  
“Thanks for that,” Arthur murmured.  
“For what?” Alfred inquired, smiling when Arthur shot him a look that said, “Did you or did you not just save me?” Alfred shifted, “You're welcome, Artie.”  
Arthur sighed, “Don't call me that, you git.”  
Alfred laughed, grabbing the tree trunk for support. “So when can we get out of here? This mission has quickly become pointless.”  
Arthur shrugged and looked at his watch. “If those Russians haven't given up looking for us, I would be extremely surprised,” he said, slipping off the branch and climbing back down the tree. Alfred followed, trusting Arthur. He was his partner after all. Making minimal noise, they ran in the general direction of a clearing, then used the teleportation device Yao had invented just a few years ago as an addition to the watch all agents wore to get back to the base in Warsaw.  
“Beam me up, Scotty,” Arthur mumbled as he hit the button on his watch.  
(A/N: Yao hasn't fixed all of the bugs in the teleportation device, including the one that causes all objects within a ten foot radius of yourself to teleport with you to wherever you're going.)  
Promptly upon their arrival at the base in Warsaw, Feliks came running towards them.  
“What on earth have you two done to your clothes?” he asked in horror, brushing some pine needles off Alfred's shoulder. “Just look at the wrinkles,” he continued, taking in Alfred and Arthur in turn to fully assess their uniforms.  
“Feliks, honestly, we're spies, our clothes are going to get wrinkled,” Arthur grumbled, surrendering to the fussy Polish man.  
“I need you to take these off immediately so I can have them ironed,” Feliks huffed, stepping back and frowning at the dirt smear on Alfred's chest. “You could have like, not rolled in filth, maybe.”  
“We aren't even that dirty,” Alfred sighed, flicking a lingering pine needle off his shoulder and pulling one out of Arthur's hair, smiling as an eyebrow was raised at him. “What? It was bothering me.”  
“Alright, Feliks, we'll go change,” Arthur said, dragging Alfred along with him to the laundry room where they could hopefully find something to wear. Knowing Feliks, there would be something.  
The laundry room was an enormous room full of dryers, washers, and ironing tables as far as the eye could see. This is an international agency, after all, and Feliks insists all the agents look “fabulous” all the time. That would mean constant washing of their uniforms, leading Yao to come up with some special chemical to make the clothing more sturdy.  
Alfred and Arthur were handed new uniforms in the appropriate size, replacing their various badges and sundry items from their pockets. They stripped quickly, Arthur straightening Alfred's collar, then walked out to report to them about their mission. A lift, several flights of stairs, and a secret passageway later, and they were at their destination. A blinking green light beckoned them in, the door sliding open as Alfred put his hand on the identification pad.  
“Welcome, Agent Jones, Agent Kirkland,” the machine acknowledged, letting them through the door and into the room beyond.  
“So, how did it go?” Gilbert asked, clicking his pen on his desk and waiting expectantly.  
“Well, we managed not to kill any of them, anyway,” Alfred said, sitting in one of the chairs across from Gilbert.  
“Good,” Gilbert said happily, jotting something down on a sticky note.  
“But we're pretty sure they're going to be pissed off we got away,” Arthur added, crossing his arms on his chest and sitting stiffly in his chair.  
“Of course they will,” Gilbert laughed. “Anyone would be frustrated that two spies infiltrated their system and got away. Unscathed, nonetheless.”  
“I wouldn't say unscathed,” Alfred said, “I nearly broke my finger getting out of that closet.”  
“Smooth,” Arthur smirked, thinking back to what they had found out about the Russian conspirators.  
“Did you guys find out anything important?” Gilbert questioned, fiddling a misplaced piece of hair that fell in his face.  
“Ivan isn't leading them,” Alfred told him.  
“They're definitely planning a mass attack, probably- no, definitely on the base in Moscow within the next couple of weeks. Massive casualties. From what I heard, they're more interested in decreasing our numbers than actually taking out the high-ranks,” Arthur blurted as Gilbert jotted down notes.  
“Danke, Agent Kirkland,” Gilbert nodded, folding up his notes and sticking them in his chest pocket. “Your information will be very useful. As for you, Agent Jones,” Gilbert continued, “at least you got Ivan in the clear. You both may leave; get some rest or something, would you?”  
Alfred opened his mouth to protest but Arthur glared at him, taking him by his shirt and dragging him back out of the room. “He knows you are just as valuable as I am, he's just trying to mess with you,” Arthur said as the door slid closed again and they made their way back down the secret passageway. “Don't let it get to you.”  
Alfred sighed, attempting to smooth down his unruly cow-lick. To his irritation, it sprung right back up no matter what he did with it. Arthur had the same problem with his eyebrows; he had tried everything short of shaving them off, fearing they would grow in even thicker than before.  
“What's next?” Arthur asked Alfred, noticing the yawn that was stifled from the American.  
“A nap,” Alfred said, smiling at the incredulous look on Arthur's face.  
“Really, Alfred? A nap?” Arthur shook his head, “You git,” he murmured, laughing slightly.  
“ALL HEROES MUST HAVE NAPS, ARTIE!” Alfred exclaimed loudly, startling his companion.  
“Okay, Alfred. A nap it is, and don't call me that,” Arthur sighed, not being able to believe how much of an idiot his partner was. Alfred smiled happily, stopping Feliks in the hallway to ask where the nearest and cheapest hotel could be found.  
“I already have a room for you, at this address,” Feliks said, handing Arthur a slip of paper. “Gilbert told me in advance you would have some down time,” he explained. “Just tell the girl at the front desk that you love pink and purple ponies and she'll show you where you can crash.”  
“Dude, thanks a lot,” Alfred said, examining the address to see if he knew where it was.  
“Yes, thank you Feliks,” Arthur said, leading Alfred to the parking garage and grabbing their designated keys from the long line of painstakingly organized wall hangers. Alfred slid zombie-like into the seat of their car as Arthur revved the engine. Sooner than Alfred could have imagined, they had reached their destination.  
Arthur followed Feliks' instructions and they found themselves in what might have been considered the penthouse of the hotel, though it had no actual floor button in the lift. It was accessed only by a key, which the girl from the front desk wore around her neck. She opened the door for them, then left them to their own devices.  
Alfred walked into the room and crashed on the bed farthest from the door, noticing the stuffed hamburger conveniently placed on his bed-side table.  
“Look, Arthur,” Alfred said sleepily, “a hamburger.”  
“I see it, Alfred. Go to bed so I can read,” Arthur scanned the shelves of books that ran along the room. Clearly someone is very delusional about the amount of down time the spies in this agency have. Alfred settled in for his nap, finally falling silent.  
A certain book caught Arthur's eye, though he had already read the entire collection. Several times, in fact. Arthur picked up The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, opening it carefully and sitting down on his own bed to read it.  
“Iggy,” came the whisper from Alfred's bed. Arthur sighed.  
“What the bloody hell do you want?” Arthur asked, rolling his eyes.  
“Umm... never mind,” Alfred laughed and fell silent again.  
“Wanker,” Arthur muttered, getting lost in the world of Sherlock.  
****  
Alfred woke several hours later, noticing Arthur laying down with his book over his face. Smiling, Alfred removed the book and brushed the side of Arthur's face, sure that the intimate contact would startle him awake.  
“What on Earth do you think you're doing?” Arthur mumbled, swatting away Alfred's hand.  
“Waking you up,” Alfred said, “we have to... well, we probably have to go do something now.”  
“Probably,” Arthur sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, yawning. “I seriously regret not getting the full two hours of sleep.”  
“You'll be fine,” Alfred said, replacing the book in the bookshelf. Arthur nodded in agreement, splashing some cold water on his face in the bathroom.  
Alfred's phone began to ring. He looked at the contact, a picture of Francis popping up on the screen. Sighing, Alfred pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”  
“Bonjour, Agent Jones, could you hand the phone to Arthur?” Francis's voice came through the phone.  
“Why, is something wrong?” Alfred asked, noticing Arthur in the bathroom worrying over his eyebrows.  
“Non, just hand him the phone,” Francis said impatiently, becoming irritated much more quickly than usual.  
“Dude, Iggy, Francis wants to speak with you,” Alfred said, interrupting Arthur staring at himself in the mirror with discontent.  
“Don't call me that... that bloody frog, this better be something good,” Arthur muttered, taking the phone from Alfred. “What do you want?”  
“Ah, salut, Arthur. I just wanted to tell you, the Russians have your cell phone,” Francis blurted.  
“They what?!” Arthur exclaimed, “You can't be serious,” he continued, patting his pockets and searching around the room.  
“Oui, it seems that when Antonio tried to reach you earlier, one of them answered the phone and-” a string of curses came from Arthur's end of the line. Francis began to laugh. “Ohonhonhon, non, I am just joking, of course,” Francis finished.  
“Git,” Arthur spat, ending the call and giving the phone back to Alfred. “Call my phone, would you?”  
Alfred obliged, remaining silent as Arthur pillaged the room, throwing pillows and blankets everywhere. Eventually he found it resting on top of the stuffed hamburger Alfred had so kindly placed on Arthur's bed side table. He picked it up, shoving it back into his pocket.  
“Just imagine the Russians getting their hands on it,” Arthur said quietly, running a hand through his hair.  
“That would be very bad,” Alfred said, his stomach rumbling.  
“Shall we eat?” Arthur asked, smoothing some hair away from his face and opening the door into the hallway. Alfred nodded his consent, following Arthur to the lift. The doors slid open noiselessly and the two agents stepped in.  
“Lobby?” a voice came from behind them, startling them both as they hadn't noticed anyone in the lift when they had first entered it. They turned to see a short, blonde boy with an odd looking hat on. The boy smiled cheerfully as he noticed Arthur staring.  
“You can't possibly be-” Arthur started, recognizing the boy at last.  
“Peter Kirkland?” the boy asked with an even wider smile, the lift doors sliding closed.  
“It is you, then,” Arthur said in wonder, reaching a hand out to touch Peter as if he couldn't believe he was real.  
“What's going on?” Alfred demanded, not used to going so long without being the center of attention. Arthur and Peter continued to ignore him, staring back at each other before Arthur processed the situation.  
“But... how? Why are you here?” Arthur finally managed to ask.  
“Simple. I wanted to be useful,” Peter said stiffly, picking up a briefcase that had been sitting at his feet. “This contains important documents I was ordered to deliver to Ivan in Moscow,” Peter continued. The lift opened with a bing and an electronic announcement of “lobby” as the three agents filed out, Alfred in the lead.  
“Will we see you later?” Alfred asked Peter, trying to make out what the small embroidery on his hat said.  
“Absolutely,” Peter answered, swinging his briefcase as he walked away.  
“Dude, who was that?” Alfred interrogated.  
“That,” Arthur said, “is my younger brother.”


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later, Arthur and Alfred found themselves in Antonio Carriedo's office at the base in Madrid.   
“Agent Kirkland, Agent Jones, I'm so glad you could make it,” Antonio said, straightening up a pile of papers and sticking them in a folder labeled “Important Documents”. Alfred was literally itching to get his hands on it.

“Why exactly, are we here?” Arthur asked, brushing a finger across the dusty desk. Antonio never had been one for keeping his desk clean.  
“Well, you see, Agent Kirkland, we've been having reports of computer hacking from citizens all across the world, and all of our researchers tell us that when they try to trace it, it sends them right back here. Furthermore, the hacker gains full control of the computer, potentially over-running entire countries or governmental systems.”

“So, we're going to find out who's doing it?” Alfred asked, trying to make Antonio get to the point.

“Precisely,” Antonio smiled, handing him the documents. “You will be transported to the base in Hong Kong immediately, where Kaoru is waiting. You will interrogate him first.” Antonio then handed them the plane tickets.

“Wow, Hong Kong! I've never been there before!” Alfred exclaimed excitedly, tugging on Arthur's right arm. Arthur narrowed his eyes, examining the tickets.

“It says we leave in two hours,” Arthur muttered, sticking the tickets in his coat pocket.

“Better hurry up,” Antonio said, ushering them out of his office and shutting the door behind them.

“Well, damn,” Alfred said. “Lucky we are skilled in the art of packing quickly, huh?”

“Definitely,” Arthur replied, hurrying down the hallway and pushing the button for the lift rather violently. Alfred tapped his foot impatiently and boarded the lift as the doors slid open, pushing the button for the first floor and looking over at Arthur.  
“What?” Arthur asked, returning the gaze.

“Nothing,” Alfred said, focusing his attention on the stainless steel doors in front of him. The rest of the lift ride was spent in silence.  
Arthur and Alfred hurried out into the sunny Madrid day, squinted at the streets lined with colorful houses and tourists in swimming trunks and bathing suits.

“Which way to the hotel again?” Arthur asked, turning around to see Alfred ogling a Spanish flamenco street performer. Arthur rolled his eyes, tapping Alfred on the shoulder to get his attention. The American turned around.

“Sorry dude, what was that?” Alfred asked, smirking as Arthur scowled at him.

“We haven't the time for this, Alfred. I asked you where the hotel is,” Arthur said, a hint of a smile forming on his lips as Alfred looked down the left side of the street, then the right.

“Pretty sure it was to the left,” Alfred said, waiting for Arthur's approval.

“I thought so as well,” he confirmed, heading in that direction. Alfred nodded and followed Arthur down the crowded street, weaving in and out of the stereotypical tourists with phones in their faces, taking pictures of street merchants and the sun beating down on the backs of two international spies making their way to their hotel to pack their bags.

Alfred and Arthur finally made it to the hotel, dashing up the stairs and retrieving their bags, Alfred throwing everything in haphazardly with a disapproving Arthur shaking his head at the disorganization.

“Feliks would have a fit,” Arthur commented. “Just look at those wrinkles.” Alfred shrugged and zipped up his suitcase, going on one last walk-through of the hotel room.

“Looks like that's everything, now we better hurry or we'll miss our flight,” Alfred said, running downstairs to check out. Arthur followed close behind, nearly knocking over an old woman standing in the lobby. He quickly apologized and calculated how much time they had left until the flight left. Not enough, he finally decided.

Arthur and Alfred ran down the sidewalk to the airport, and made it through security just in time to catch the last boarding call for their flight to Hong Kong. As they sat down in their seats, they both let out a sigh of relief and prepared for the sixteen and a half hour flight.  
By the six hour mark, Alfred felt as if he would lose his mind. There was a kid behind him that kept kicking his seat, sending his abdomen into the tray in front of him which at one point held diet coke and half a hamburger he made Arthur share with him. At first Arthur had refused, but Alfred knew he hadn't eaten anything all day so he insisted on Arthur eating something, even if it was a “disgusting piece of rubbish”, as Arthur called it.  
You would think that after nearly three years of being an international spy, Alfred would be used to long flights, but he never was known to be a very patient person. Around four hours into the flight an infant a few rows back and to the right had started crying incessantly; on and off for the past two hours now. Some of the people seated around Arthur and Alfred were starting to lose their shit, including the agents themselves.  
“Just ten more hours until we can get off this metallic prison,” Alfred murmured in Arthur's ear. Arthur nodded, paying more attention to the airing of a popular British television show the two of them were borderline obsessed with called Sherlock. This particular episode happened to be the first episode of the second season, as the plane had already aired all three episodes of the season before. This episode was called “A Scandal in Belgravia.” Alfred rested his head on Arthur's shoulder and Arthur looked down at him as if to say, “What the hell are you doing?” then accepted the contact, leaning against Alfred so they were even. It was a bit awkward and they got some stares from the passengers around them, but they were too absorbed in Sherlock to care.

They were so into Sherlock, actually, that they gasped at all the unexpected things, even though they had seen this episode countless times, and smiled at the Johnlock adorableness. They watched the next two episodes, as well, and both of them teared up at the end of “The Reichenbach Fall”. They fell asleep still leaning on each other and woke up just before they landed in Hong Kong.  
Since they had left at approximately two o'clock in the afternoon from Madrid, they arrived in Hong Kong at six in the morning after nearly an entire day of flying. They had missed an entire day due to travel. Arthur had to wake up a disgruntled and hungry Alfred, who wasn't happy at all about the sixteen hour flight. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he learned they still had about fifteen minutes of waiting to do before they could actually get off the plane.

“I hate traveling,” Alfred complained, playing with the latch on his tray.

“It'd be best if you get used to it, Alfred,” Arthur said, hands folded in his lap. He looked very professional. Alfred sighed and waited for the noise that told them they could finally take their seatbelts off. Since they were international agents, they would get to depart the plane first. The perks of international government service.

Alfred and Arthur grabbed their suitcases and walked off the plane quickly, going straight to the baggage claim where they found Kaoru waiting for them patiently.

“你好, Agent Kirkland, Agent Jones,” Kaoru said. (A/N: I'm having Kaoru speak “simplified” Chinese. What he says sounds like “nee-how” and means hello)

“Hello, Kaoru,” Arthur said, bowing slightly. Alfred was dead on his feet and unable to do anything but keep himself from complaining about his cramped legs.

“How was your flight?” Kaoru asked, beginning to walk in the direction of the car he had waiting for them.

“Long,” Alfred mumbled, dragging his suitcase along behind him. Kaoru smiled slightly and took both of their bags, setting them in the trunk of the car and climbing into the passenger seat.

“Who's driving?” Arthur asked curiously, hopping in the backseat and scooting over to the far right. (A/N: In Hong Kong, they drive on the left side.)

“This is my friend Ya,” Kaoru said, “Ya, this is Agent Kirkland, and this is Agent Jones,” Kaoru introduced them, pointing at Arthur and Alfred in turn.

“Hello, Ya,” Arthur said politely, reaching out a hand for him to shake.

“I don't mean to be rude, but if we don't move this car now we could get a parking ticket,” Ya said, buckling his seat belt and starting the car. Arthur retracted his hand and laughed awkwardly.

“Of course,” Arthur said, feeling foolish. He proceeded to buckle his seat belt as well, looking over to make sure Alfred had done the same.

“Alfred, put your seat belt on,” Arthur said exasperatedly. 

“Why should I?” Alfred asked childishly, sticking his tongue out at Arthur.

“Are you really doing this right now? We're supposed to be professional.” Arthur sighed.

“Being professional is boring,” Alfred said in retaliation, buckling his seat belt despite earlier protestations.  
“Thank you,” Arthur said, turning his head to look out at the lights of early morning Hong Kong.

“I'm not normally one for conversation,” Kaoru began, “but I'm curious: how long have you two been partners?”

“Ever since Alfred got into the agency,” Arthur said, “which was three years ago. Almost exactly three years ago, actually.”

“Oh really? That's not so long compared to other duos. I believe Agent Honda and Agent Wang have been with the agency since it started. Then again, I could be wrong...” Kaoru trailed off.

“Dude, you're scaring me with your chattiness,” Alfred said.

“True, I think you've talked more in the past five minutes than you have the rest of the time I've known you,” Arthur said thoughtfully. Kaoru shrugged.

“I guess it's because Ya is here,” he said, “I'm always a lot more talkative around him.” Ya made a noise of approval, concentrating on the road.  
“Could be,” Alfred agreed, admiring the sunrise in the distance. It had a kind of quality about it he hadn't experienced with any other sunrise, like it was the beginning of a whole new existence and the world had been reborn. Arthur was staring out at the reflections of said sunset on the black glass buildings, watching the billboards flash different hues of the same reds, oranges, pinks, and purples.

Finally, after a long and awkward silence, Ya pulled up to a very large building with red stone dragons on either side of the entry way.  
“Here we are,” Ya said, parking in front of one of the red stone dragons and pushing the button for the car's trunk to open. Alfred and Arthur went around to grab their suitcases.

“Since we don't have an official agency headquarters in Hong Kong yet, for all intents and purposes we hold our meetings here,” Kaoru explained, stepping through the automatic doors. Alfred and Arthur trailed behind him, the wheels of their respective suitcases squeaking on the white tile floors. Ya followed close behind them, handing the keys to a man dressed in a black suit with a name tag that Arthur couldn't quite make out.  
Alfred and Arthur were assigned their room and told to report to room the next door for a live chat with Gilbert. He would give them their instructions for the interrogation. Kaoru and Ya had left them to their own devices back in the lobby, claiming they “have other issues to attend to”.

Alfred examined the room key, wondering if it worked for both doors or if someone was waiting inside the adjacent room for them.

“We have about fifteen minutes until the chat with Gilbert,” Arthur said, fiddling with his watch and synchronizing it with the alarm clock on the night stand. In this hotel room, they had only been given one bed. Alfred wondered how they were going to work that out later that evening. “At the rate we're going, I'm going to wear the hands of my watch out,” Arthur commented.

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked, snapping his head away from the partially open window.

“All this continent-hopping really takes its toll on my watch,” Arthur explained, twisting it so it fit correctly on his wrist.  
“You could get a new one,” Alfred said nonchalantly, pulling back the blinds to let the early sun stream in.

“But I like this watch,” Arthur huffed, laying back on the bed. Alfred laid down beside him, watching him intently. “What in the name of Queen Elizabeth are you doing?”

“Relaxing,” Alfred replied, trying not to lose his poker face and failing miserably.

“I see, but don't you have your own- oh,” Arthur realized there was only one bed.  
“Now you've caught on,” Alfred chuckled nervously.

“There isn't even a couch or anything...” Arthur said, looking around the small room; very devoid of other sleeping arrangements other than the queen sized bed.

“Sleeping on the floor is going to be hell,” Alfred said sadly, eying the carpet.

“I... I suppose we can share the bed,” Arthur said, “but for now we'll have to go next door so Gilbert can explain our task in more detail, since apparently Antonio didn't do a good enough job.”

“Yeah, I don't know how that worked out,” Alfred mumbled, already regretting leaving the bed. Alfred put the room key in the slot and opened the door to an empty room with a computer. A small pop up box had Gilbert's always-impatient image on it making faces to pass the time.

“Ah, good, you're here,” Gilbert said, noticing the two agents' presence.

“Yes, we are,” Arthur said, sitting in one chair at the desk and leaving the other for Alfred.

“I suppose you heard I was going to tell you about the interrogation,” Gilbert divulged, his eyes staring at Arthur and Alfred in turn through the computer screen.

“Yes, that is what we were told,” Arthur replied.

“That was a lie,” Gilbert stated simply.

“A lie? What do you mean?” Alfred asked, blinking curiously.

“Happy April Fools!” Gilbert yelled, cackling as Arthur's eyes narrowed.

“Gilbert, it's not anywhere near April,” Arthur sighed, putting his face in his palm.

“Yeah dude, what's up with that?” Alfred said, slightly irritated. He was starting to get a headache. Gilbert continued to laugh.

“You guys, you look so irritated,” Gilbert choked out between bouts of laughter.

“Well yeah, we're dead tired and you wouldn't believe the jet lag crossing two continents creates,” Alfred snapped, rubbing his temples with his thumbs.

“Ah well, you're free to go now,” Gilbert dismissed them, signing out of the chat. Arthur sighed.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Arthur said, turning the computer off and getting out of the his chair.  
“You could say that again,” Alfred grumbled, still holding his head.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked, concerned.

“I'll be fine,” Alfred assured him.

“I could give you some pain ki-”

“No,” Alfred interrupted him, “I don't need pain killer for a stupid headache.”

“As your partner, the one who has to put up with your mood, I demand that you take pain killer,” Arthur said as they re-entered their hotel room.  
“Fine,” Alfred stuck his tongue out at Arthur.

“Good,” Arthur smiled, digging the pills out of his suitcase and handing them to Alfred with a glass of water. “Just take one.” Alfred popped one into his mouth and downed it with a large gulp of water, then closed the curtains he had opened earlier, sitting down on the bed. Arthur sat beside him, wondering what had brought on Alfred's headache. Perhaps it had been all the noisy children on the plane, but Alfred usually wasn't one to be bothered by noise. He was, after all, quite noisy himself.

Alfred slid his shoes off and chucked them across the room, unbuttoning his shirt as well.  
“What on Earth are you doing?” Arthur asked in alarm.

“Stripping for you, obviously,” Alfred said sarcastically, smirking as he took his shirt off.

“Umm, apparently,” Arthur suppressed his laughter. After Alfred had taken all his uncomfortable clothes off. (i.e. shoes, socks, shirt) he got under the covers and laid down to sleep off his jet lag.

“Won't you join me, Artie?” Alfred asked, looking up at the British man still sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Don't call me that,” Arthur said seriously, “and sure, why not?” Arthur laid down with Alfred after his shoes joined Alfred's on the other side of the room, and suddenly they became aware of just how unbearably hot it was in the hotel room.

“Please tell me there's air conditioner in here,” Alfred's muffled voice came from under the sheets. Arthur had thrown them over him in his quest for some way of cooling the room down.

“Alas, there is!” Arthur exclaimed, turning the knob so the cold air would blast into the room.

“Hurray!” came Alfred's muffled cheer, “until then, can we just use the sheet?” Alfred asked as Arthur laid back down. Arthur nodded, pushing the covers off of Alfred and onto the floor."

After a few silent minutes, Arthur and Alfred both allowed themselves to slip into the clutches of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moscow bombed. Love confessions. Read it and weep (or not?).

Arthur woke up to the sound of the television blaring.   
“BREAKING NEWS: Bombing in Moscow leaves hundreds either seriously injured or dead!”   
Arthur's eyes snapped open and he jumped out of bed to stare at the screen.   
“ALFRED, WAKE UP,” Arthur shouted.   
“Dude, it's like... three am. What gives?” Alfred asked groggily. He turned to look at Arthur who was rooted to the spot.   
The news update showed a destroyed street, with rubble obscuring the view of the pavement. Thousands of people poured out of collapsing buildings, screaming and tripping over each other as they tried to evacuate. Police officers tried in vain to calm these people down, running for their own lives as buildings on each side of the street started to collapse inwards. Firefighters doused the flames repeatedly to no avail.   
Arthur and Alfred watched as the camera switched to show the base in Moscow shake violently, the bombs still sending tremors that cracked the pavement and caused all the car alarms to start up again simultaneously.   
Bodies were scattered throughout the street, their faces streaked with blood; bones crushed by the still-falling rubble. News reporters were shouting in Russian, and from what Arthur understood, the cameraman had lost his partner and was now running along the street trying to document the horrifying things going on around him.   
“Dammit, we told them this was going to happen. Why didn't they do anything to stop it?” Arthur said angrily, whipping his phone out and dialing Antonio's number. He was sent straight to voice mail. Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio were all getting floods of calls from agents all over the world.   
“Antonio, when you get this message, call me back immediately,” Arthur hissed into the phone, the whole word crashing down around them as the cameraman turned the camera onto himself. The look in the man's eyes was one of pure terror. The television's English subtitles kicked in:   
“It looks like... this is goodbye,” a single tear rolled down the man's cheek. “I can't get out, there's too many people. To my wife and kids: I love you.” The man set the camera down just as a large piece of concrete fell and crushed the camera. The man attempted to protect his head, which ended up being pointless. The footage of the disaster cut to two reporters sitting in the newsroom staring off into the distance in horror. Finally, one of them snapped out of it.   
“Let's take a moment of silence for our fallen reporters and camera operators...” the two reporters reached for each others hands and stared at their desk sullenly for ten seconds.   
“It appears as if this bombing was by some sort of sophisticated company of terrorists, no ordinary citizen could have pulled this feat,” the reporter's voice filled Arthur and Alfred's stiflingly silent hotel room. Arthur walked up and turned the television off.   
“Alfred, we have to get a hold of someone,” he said angrily. Alfred nodded and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Gilbert's office number. He picked up almost immediately.   
“Agent Jones, I am extremely busy right now, as you might have guessed. What's going on?”   
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Alfred said, pacing the room agitatedly.   
“What do you mean?”   
“We told you weeks ago that Moscow was being targeted!” Alfred exclaimed, throwing his free arm into the air in exasperation.   
“Did you? I don't seem to have that on file...” Gilbert said, the sound of rummaging papers just barely audible.   
Alfred sighed and said, “Is Agent Braginski... ummm... alive?”   
Gilbert's end was silent for a few moments, and then, “We don't know.”   
“What do you mean, 'we don't know'?”   
“I mean exactly as I say; we haven't been able to create a KIA/MIA list yet. The bodies were crushed under a lot of heavy rubble...”   
“Yeah, no shit. Listen, call me back when you actually fucking know something,” Alfred said, hanging up the phone and tossing it onto the bed in frustration.  
“Bullocks,” Arthur said, running his fingers through his blonde hair. Alfred threw himself onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling for a long time, a very blank expression on his face.   
“Alfred, are you okay?” Arthur asked, awkwardly standing by the window.   
“No, not really,” came Alfred's quiet reply.   
“There's nothing we could have done.”   
“We could have made sure they did something about the Moscow attack.”   
“Alfred, be quiet.”   
Alfred glared at him.   
“No, seriously, I think there's people outside our door,” Arthur explained, walking silently towards the wooden door and pressing his ear against it.   
“...heard some of the agents went missing a couple days ago...”  
“...completely fell off the grid...”  
“...department of weaponry breached...”   
The voices moved on and Arthur moved away from the door. He hadn't noticed how heavily he was breathing.   
“So...?”   
“I think some agents stole those bombs from the department of weaponry,” Arthur said breathlessly.   
“Y'know, we really should go find Kaoru and ask him what the hell is going on,” Alfred replied, throwing his clothes and shoes on and walking out the door with Arthur right behind him. They ran down the stairs to the lobby where a very disgruntled concierge was speaking rapidly in Mandarin. She hung up the phone and turned to the two blonde agents.   
“Can I help you?”   
“We were wondering if you knew where we could find Kaoru?” Alfred asked.   
“Top floor, to the left, last door. Knock twice.”   
“Thank you,” Arthur called as they ran off again.   
The concierge nodded and sighed as the phone rang again and the strange blonde men disappeared into the lift.   
It seemed to Alfred that the lift was going painfully slow.   
“Maybe we should have taken the stairs,” Alfred said, fists clenched and shaking. The door opened with a ding and the two agents rushed down the hallway, Alfred nearly bruising his knuckles as he pounded twice on the door as the concierge had told him to. The door opened almost immediately, a disgruntled Kaoru grabbing both of them by their neck ties and dragging them into the room.  
Kaoru's room appeared to be the embodiment of chaos. Papers were shooting out from the printer in the corner and landing on the floor below as if they were leaves from a tree. His desk chair was nearly overturned while his laptop was busy decoding some very, very long encrypted document. The television in the next room blared the sounds of sirens and the frantic search that had begun in the streets of Moscow.   
“So, agents, what brings you up here?” Kaoru asked.   
“We need to... we want to help,” Alfred explained, “we tried to get a hold of Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert, but only Gilbert answered for a short amount of time before hanging up. After we're finished with our business here, we'd like to go to Russia and search for Agent Braginski.”   
“I see. Well, not even I have been able to get through to headquarters, but perhaps if we contacted your brothe-”   
“You mean Matthew? What would he do?” Alfred interrupted.   
“I understand that Matthew has a very... close relationship with Agent Bonnefoy, so perhaps he could try and explain to Francis that we have been desperately trying to contact him!”   
“I see... but Matthew might not even answer his phone. Hell, he might even be out on some important mission by now. He is one of our best agents, if not the best,” Arthur mused.   
“Puh-lease, we all know I'm the best, especially with you as my partner,” Alfred winked and got elbowed in the side by Arthur.   
“Alfred, this is not the time for flirting!” Kaoru said with exasperation. The printer was still sending papers flying, which Alfred determined was the document Kaoru's laptop was wildly decoding. Alfred looked pointedly at the machine, which caused his fellow agent to look over his shoulder and see the mess. Hurriedly picking up the printed papers, he attempted to put them into the right order. Alfred and Arthur went to help, but he shoo-ed them away.   
“These are top secret documents from the government of Hong Kong,” Kaoru explained, “they are for my eyes only.”  
“Wow, okay, fine...” Alfred scoffed and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Matthew's number, tapping his foot impatiently as it rang, and rang, and rang...  
“Hello?” Matthew's soft voice came through the speaker.   
“Bonjour, Matthew, have you talked to Francis lately?” Alfred asked, foot still tapping.   
“Non, as a matter of fact. He's been so busy since the bombing... the only time he talked to me was to send me to look for Agent Braginski!”   
“I thought he might have done that. Is he going to join you any time soon?”   
“He told me he would meet me here in Moscow as soon as it was possible for him,” Matthew explained, sighing. Alfred could hear people shouting in the background.   
“Any leads on the location of Agent Braginski yet?”   
“Sorry, no. Why?”   
Alfred sighed. “Arthur and I want to help find him. We managed to infiltrate one of the secret Russian societies once and make it out alive, didn't we?”   
“Al, please, we need you to finish your business in Hong Kong first.”   
Arthur was staring at Alfred, waiting for him to conclude the phone call.   
“I know, but we feel that we could be of great he-” Arthur snatched the phone from Alfred.   
“Matthew, this is Arthur. We were thinking that once we finished our business here, we could join you and hopefully Francis over there in Moscow and help you find Ivan. What say you?”   
“I think that sounds reasonable. I'll talk to Francis and get back to you as soon as possible.”   
“Thank you, Matthew. Goodbye,” Arthur hung up and turned around to see Alfred glaring at him.   
“What? You were taking to long,” Arthur said nonchalantly. Kaoru had finally gotten all the papers in the correct order, read them through, and ran them through the shredder on his enormous black desk.   
“So, what are you two partners in crime going to do now?” he asked, taking some scissors and snipping the shredded paper into small, unreadable pieces.   
“We are going to go review the documents given to us by Agent Carriedo, after we interrogate you about a very pressing matter,” Arthur said firmly.   
“And what matter is that?” Kaoru questioned.   
“There's been a lot of system hacking going around lately, do you know anything about that?”   
“Actually, yes,” Kaoru stated, blowing his long black bangs out of his face.   
“Well, will you tell us?”   
“My good friend, Xiao Mei, has been hacking into systems all over the world for several months now. I've tried to get her to stop and even threatened to call the police, but she was threatening to send the entire international system into chaos.”   
“Maybe that's why the hacking keeps getting traced back to headquarters,” Alfred mused.   
“Wait, what?” Kaoru asked.   
“Yeah, Antonio told us that the hacking has been getting traced back to headquarters, which makes it even more concerning,” Alfred continued, looking at one of Kaoru's posters thoughtfully.   
Arthur took back control of the situation. “Sorry to interrupt you, Alfred, but we need to know where we can find Xiao Mei.”   
“In Thailand, of course,” Kaoru said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.   
“Of course,” Arthur sighed, picking up his phone.   
“Wait, what are you doing?” Kaoru inquired.   
“Calling Antonio to see if he can get us on the next flight to Thailand!” Arthur exclaimed, covering the phone as he spoke.   
“For all three of us?” Arthur nodded in response, muttering about answering machines to himself as he left a message for Antonio asking him to call him back as soon as possible and that it was very important that he do so.   
Arthur paced the floor waiting for his phone call returned. He didn't bother to call Francis and Gilbert because he knew they were busy and didn't want to bother them just so they could wire him through to Antonio.   
Alfred and Arthur shared a look, nodded, and Alfred turned to Yao to say, “we'll give you a call with the time of our departure and what time to meet in the lobby.” With that, the two agents left Kaoru attempting to round up the left over clippings from his secret document.   
“I can't believe he didn't just torch that thing,” Alfred laughed, stepping into the lift.   
“I think I'm going to take the stairs,” Arthur said, “I need some alone time.”   
Alfred nodded as the lift doors closed on him. He looked out the glass window that allowed for a nice view of the city illuminated by the midday sun, appreciating the large garden sprawled across the lawn surrounding the hotel. He wondered why Artie had used the stairs instead of going into the lift with him. Was it something he said? He didn't seem to be irritated with Alfred's existence in Kaoru's room. Maybe he was just mourning the thousands of lives lost earlier that very morning? Alfred sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth down his cowlick using the dim reflection in the thick glass of the window. He sighed again. It was never any use.   
The lift doors opened to reveal a disgruntled Arthur waiting for Alfred under the large chandelier just outside the little area the lifts opened out into.   
“Hey, Artie, you okay?” Alfred asked, stepping out of the lift and walking towards him cautiously.   
“Mm don't call me that,” Arthur murmured, “and no, we could have prevented the loss of thousands of lives...”   
“Artie...”   
“I said don't call me that,” the exhausted agent sighed.   
“Something is wrong, tell me,” Alfred demanded, grasping Arthur's hand as if that would make him unable to get away.   
“Come down to the garden with me,” Arthur said flatly, dragging his blonde companion to the stairwell. Alfred obliged, holding the door open for Arthur to pass through.   
“I am so angry, Alfred,” Arthur said vehemently.   
“Why is that?”   
“They could have saved those people,” Arthur breathed, missing a step in his agitation. Fortunately, Alfred grabbed his hand and saved him from falling down a flight of harshly carpeted stairs. Arthur's breathing hitched and Alfred shook him a little, guiding him to the corner of the stairwell where a window shined light into the dimly lit emergency escape.   
“Arthur, look at me,” Alfred commanded. The British man looked up into his bright blue eyes. “Calm down, dude,” Alfred said quietly, brushing his fingers through the other man's thick blonde hair.   
“The garden... I need some fresh air,” Arthur breathed, tugging on Alfred's hand.   
“Alright, fine, but I don't think Hong Kong has very fresh air...” Alfred trailed off, following Arthur down the stairs.   
About two minutes passed until, finally, they had gotten to the lobby. Arthur hurried outside, sighing contently when the automatic doors opened onto the lush garden. The aroma of Hong Kong's national flower, the bauhina blakeana, wafted through the air as Arthur searched for a particularly secluded area.   
“Artie, you look tired, let's just sit down here,” Alfred persuaded, pointing to the concrete bench he was standing next to.   
“No, I want to be alone with you and the flowers,” Arthur said softly, motioning for Alfred to follow him. He pushed aside a few leaves and found a gazebo that was surrounded by an unkempt hedge surrounded by a few large bushes. “This looks perfect,” Arthur decided, sitting down on one of the softer looking cushions. Alfred sat down next to him hesitantly.   
“Are you sure you-”   
“Shh, Alfred. I wanted to... uhh...” Arthur coughed awkwardly and ran his hands through his hair, thinking about what he was going to say next.   
“Dude, do I need to take you to a doc-” Alfred's inquiry was silenced by Arthur's look; a look that the American had never seen on him before. He had only seen it one other time, a long, long, time ago...  
“Alfred, I... damn, I'm going to make things weird...” Arthur trailed off and Alfred raised his eyebrows questioningly.   
“Spit it out, for God's sake!” Alfred exclaimed. “It's like you're about to confess your love for me or something!”   
Arthur's eyes widened, “I do love you, you twat! Ever since you first joined the agency and I saw you walk out in your newly ironed uniform.... damn, it looks amazing on you...” Arthur almost licked his lips, but he stopped himself. He thought it might freak Alfred out. On the contrary, Alfred was staring at Arthur in unabashed shock.   
“Oh, my God,” Alfred whispered, “but that can't... no, I never thought my love could be requited...” Alfred paused then said louder, “I... I love you, too.”


End file.
